iDo It Over
by ColorsOfTheSky101
Summary: Freddie must relive the events of the lock-in over and over until he gets it right.
1. Chapter 1

**Summary:** Freddie must relive the events of the lock-in over and over until he gets it right.

iDo It Over

Chapter 1

"Look, I know it's scary for you to put your feelings out there," I tell my blonde-headed demon of a friend, determined to show her – to _prove_ once and for all – that she loves Brad, that she should go for Brad.

I mean, it's not like she could be in love with anybody else.

Sam is looking at me like she just might bring her double-fist face-dancing threat to life, which I am not going to lie, scares me a bit. Nonetheless, I hold my stance because for some obscene reason, I want this for her.

Happiness and fudge, that is.

"Because you never know if the person you like is gonna like you back," I continue, catching her blue-eyed gaze like I always do when it's time for our bizarre, dysfunctional friendship to enter 'Serious Mode.' While 'Fight Mode' and 'Competitive Mode' are utilized so often that they're beat-up and bruised, 'Serious Mode' lives in a realm of spider webs and dust bunnies – rarely ever touched. And I think Sam understands where we are, because through my speech she looks like she's very deeply contemplating something that does _not_ have to do with rearranging my face (for once). Like, _really_ contemplating something. "But you never know…" _Seriously. I wonder what it could be._ "What might happen…" _Maybe I'm finally getting through to her! Maybe she's finally going to make her move on Brad and_ –! "If you don't – "

Before I can fully process what's happening, Sam has grabbed my shoulders, pulled me close, and smashed her impulsive, angry lips into my still-babbling, unsuspecting ones. My eyes widen twice the size I ever thought they could, the world stops spinning, I lose cognitive and motor function entirely. All I have the brain power to do is stand there like a total idiot with the bane of my existence trying to tell me something without using logical options like _words_ or _explanations_. I would have been more than fine handling words or explanations. This? Catastrophe from the moment she crossed that fine line.

Reluctantly, she finishes the kiss and slowly releases her grip on my shoulders, studying me, and I revert back to my original, safer distance from Sam Puckett, as if I'm some sort of elastic, inanimate object.

We're both stunned, to say the least, and the extreme awkwardness is most definitely reciprocated. Despite everything, Sam and I have always been on the same page, more often than not, on the same line of said page.

_WHAT?_ I hear both our voices echo in my head in unison, _WHY?_

I open and close my mouth like a dying _Carassius auratus_, trying so, so hard to say something, anything, to the shocked, anxious girl standing before me, but honestly, my mind is _confetti. Done-zo_. It's like it's having a power outage and the alarm is someone screaming, "_Sam Puckett just kissed me!" _like, nine hundred times.

Thus, all I can manage to output is a smooth, clever, "…I…I…"

"Sorry," Sam says, a dialogue so unlike her yet so completely like her all at the same time.

I am somehow able to figure out that she's probably not that sorry.

"It's cool," I respond lamely, even more lamely trying to smile, but to Sam it probably looks more along the lines of mild constipation. _Why, oh, why couldn't I just have normal, predictable friends? Why this?_

Sam raises an eyebrow at me, and in any other situation it almost would have been comical. "So…that's…all you've got to say?" The question immediately lessens the numbness of my intelligence. _Excuse me?_

"That's all _I've_ got to say?" I repeat, incredulous, "How 'bout _you_? _You're_ the one who went all blitzkrieg on my face just now!" She looks relatively taken aback.

"Quit using words I don't understand, nub!" she shouts, putting her fist up.

"Blitzkrieg is a swift, sudden, military attack – "

"Ugghh, you're such a dweeb, you know that?" she exclaims, furious for unclear reasons. "I'm so outta here." She pushes past me – so hard, might I add, that I almost fall flat on my face – and marches inside, slamming the door behind her.

I don't even entertain the idea of running after her, instead gladly accepting the newfound alone time. 'Cause boy do I need it.

Unfortunately, aforementioned 'alone time' lasts for approximately thirty seconds before Carly Shay bursts through the door, looking extremely high-strung and ready to reprimand me.

"Freddie!" she shouts, and I feel myself cringe at her anger, "Want to explain to me what just happened out here? Or, I don't know, maybe why Sam just knocked out half the ninth grade from storming through the hallways?"

"How am I supposed to know?" I shout, throwing my arms up in exasperation, "One moment I'm trying to be a good friend and convince Sam to make a move on Brad, the next she's on me like I'm a living, breathing Fat Cake!" I run a hand through my hair and begin to pace uselessly.

Carly sighs, trying to make sense of the situation. "So... it... wasn't Brad. It was you. All along, Sam lo – "

"Don't say it!" I demand, "Don't go there! We _can't_ go there. Sam does not… it's impossible that she… there's no way she could…Agh!"

"Don't be so stubborn," Carly says, "She obviously –" I look up from my pacing to halt Carly's statement again but soon notice that she has somehow frozen in place. In fact, it seems as if everything has frozen in place. _What the - ?_

"STOP!" a voice that sounds suspiciously like Carly's – though it can't be, Carly is right here, her mouth not moving - booms from an unknown source. "STOP, STOP, STOP!" A quick flash of light reveals – to my earth-shattering surprise – another Carly, only she is dressed in all white, and glowing. Yes, literally _glowing_. "You, my friend, are a mess and a half."

I ready himself to scream bloody murder, except the shining Carly quickly runs over and covers my mouth, leaving me to struggle and utter muffled sounds of protest.

"Whoa, calm down!" the not frozen Carly commands, my eyes wide, my heart beating wildly, "Hey, hey, chill, let me explain." Soon enough, I give up struggling and trying to scream, but the fear is not gonna be leaving anytime soon. "Good." The strange Carly smiles and releases me.

"You're… you're… you're…" I stutter, my eyes flying back and forth between the frozen, mid-scold Carly and the smiling, shiny white Carly.

"Here to help!" The latter says cheerfully, "What's up? I'm Adelaide, from the SCC – y'know, the Second Chance Committee? – Our representatives often take on the appearance and personality of close, personal buds of our clients, hence…" Adelaide gestures to her Carly-like self. "Get it now?"

"No?" I squeak. It is official. I have either gone crazy or entered some type of apocalyptic, alternate reality where nothing makes sense.

"I'll be clearer then!" Adelaide says brightly, "You choked big time, and we at SCC are huge iCarly fans. So, we're going to give you a shot at getting it right, free of charge!" As Adelaide says 'free of charge', she gestures at the air as if outlining the phrase for an infomercial. "Ready, Freddie?"

"Wait, I don't - !"

"I will take that as a yes!" Adelaide confidently snaps her fingers, and instantaneously the opposite of gravity sweeps me off my feet, caught in some kind of crazy, colossal tornado that has spontaneously generated from the ground under me.

"Wh-whoa!" I cry out, trying to regain balance, but it is totally futile. "Ahhh! Let me down! I… hate… anti-gravitational tumbling! Ahhh!" The wind is so strong that it stings my eyes, so I close them shut and grab my knees and scream and scream, hoping this is all a dream and I'll wake up in my nice, warm bed, with Sam still hating me, with no SCC or whatever that chiz is, with everything back to normal.

Except that doesn't happen.

When the wind dies down and I open my eyes once again, I'm facing my PearPad, the MoodFace App up and running, the familiar sights of the Ridgeway cafeteria bustling with semester project groups. Beyond the PearPad stands a concentrated Brad and an impatient but surprisingly cooperate Sam, waiting for her mood to be read.

The MoodFace App calculates and outputs and eerily familiar reading: "IN LOVE."

...Alright then. Please disregard theory two. I have definitely gone crazy.

**A/N: I know, I know, you guys are probably all too sick of iOMG stories, but I thought this up and couldn't resist. What do you think? This story shouldn't be too long… I'm not sure exactly how long it'll get yet, maybe 10ish chapters?**

**Meanwhile, I hope you guy aren't losing YOUR minds over waiting for iLost My Mind. ;) **

**Thanks for reading, my dears!**

**-Colors**


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary:** Freddie must relive the events of the lock-in over and over until he gets it right.

**Disclaimer: **Um, I forgot to put a disclaimer in the first chapter… but come on, you all know the drill by now. I don't own iCarly, yada yada,

iDo It Over

Chapter 2

All I can do is stare at the screen before me in utter disbelief.

"How did I…?" I mutter quietly, digging for order, "What… but… this already…what – "

"Can I move now?" Immediately my head snaps up, and I find myself staring at Sam, who still looks annoyed. And it's funny in the not-so-funny kind of way because she looks… different than, you know, the first time this scene played out. Maybe it's because I know what's coming, but it's like she can see right through me. I look away, flustered, pretending there's something totally important I have to mess around with on my laptop.

"Uh…yeah," I reply, opting to type completely random letters into an open, blank Microsoft Word document. Sam gets up to grab some chips.

"So what's her mood?" Brad casually wonders, camera in hand. I visibly cringe at the familiar question. I pinch myself and groan, causing both Brad and Sam to raise an eyebrow at me. This is _really_ happening? I'm _really_ back in time? Aw, man.

"Uh…it's, uh…" I'm about to give Brad my original answer, that Sam's read was inconclusive, when a thought falls noisily into my brain: _Okay, so obviously there's something that happened tonight that wasn't supposed to happen… and the only remotely out of the ordinary event was Sam kissing me. SO, all I have to do is prevent that from going down, and everything will be cool. _"Bored. Yup. Sam is bored. _So_ bored."

I surprise myself with a slight feeling of… disappointment? I mean, it caught me way off guard, and I'll probably never sleep again, but kissing Sam wasn't all that bad. It was kind of nice, actually.

…Wait, er, no, y'know, not the kind of 'nice' where I would want to do it again. And again and again. That'd just be crazy.

Just _crazy_.

"'Course I'm bored," Sam says, popping some chips into her mouth, "I'm at school. Bound to happen sometime." Brad lets out a laugh at her joke, but I'm too busy trying _not _to think about how a couple hours from now she is going to full-on make out with me and doesn't even know it yet. "What's eating _you_?"

I practically jump when I realize the question is directed at me. I guess it makes sense. I'm probably at least five shades paler right now, and apparently Sam more than notices me, sooo… _agh, Freddie, focus! Fo-cus!_

"Anything that you don't eat first?" I manage to get out, my voice an awkward octave higher than usual. Sam says something in response, but I can't for the life of me figure out what it is because her mouth is stuffed with chips. I clear my throat. "Uh, listen, guys, I need to go get my laptop charger fr-from my… locker. Yeah, my locker. I'll be right back." I shut the laptop in front of me, grab my backpack and bolt towards the door, glad to have found a way out. Hey, at least that excuse was better than the tissues one.

Deciding I really have no choice other than going back and enduring more Sam, I pop in on Carly and Gibby, who are currently mid-way through torturing Spencer via obnoxiously grotesque-smelling gas in the stimulus chamber. The glass is sound-proof, so I can't hear what the poor guy is saying, but judging by the scream-like qualities of his face, I can only assume that once again he's not having the best time in there.

"Hey Carly, Gibby," I greet my two friends, trying to establish some sort of normalcy.

"Oh, hey," Carly says, kind as ever.

"'Sup," Gibby says, before returning to studying Spencer's extreme discomfort.

"How's your MoodFace project going?"

"Great," I lie, gulping in a way I hope is discreet, "Nothing too unusual."

"Really?" Carly checks, chuckling, "'Cause it looks like you've seen a ghost."

_Yeah_, I think to myself bitterly, _the ghost of lock-in's past._

"Nah, I'm fine," I lie yet again. I catch Carly glancing at the laptop in my hands suspiciously, but before I can make any move to stop her, Carly yanks it out of my shaking hands and flips the screen open. I struggle to take it back, but she's a swift, little brunette and views Sam's mood just as I snatch the portable computer from her hands.

"In love?" Carly exclaims, smiling. She snaps her fingers. "Aha! This explains everything! You know, why she's wanted to hang with you _and Brad_ all the time – " _Whoa, hang on. What's happening? The first time around…_ "Why she's been so nice to you _and Brad_! She must be in love with Brad!" I _said all this stuff._

I shake my head, feeling almost ashamed at how easily Carly and I had jumped to conclusions.

This right here, is how it all started. If I crush Carly's ever-meddling plans now, maybe the whole kiss fiasco can be avoided.

"Carly… I don't think we should read too much into this," I tell her carefully.

"Are you kidding? This is huge!" Carly practically squeals. "Sam hasn't _seriously_ liked a guy sans criminal history since… well… ever!"

"Hey Carly, check this out!" Gibby calls from his spot in front of the stimulus chamber. The both of us turn to look at him. "I turned the stink up to _eleven_!" I watch with déjà-vu-like horror and amusement as Spencer bangs on the stimulus chamber pitifully with one hand, the other holding his shirt over his nose in a futile attempt to block the terrible odor. He slowly, clumsily slides to the floor of the chamber, whining in protest.

"I've got to go talk to her," Carly announces quickly, ignoring her brother's torture.

"Wait, Carly – " But she's gone before I can convince her to stay out of it.

Now it's just me, Gibby, and Spencer, writhing in nose-pain. Yeah, my cue to leave.

As I wander down the hallways, I pass by Carly and Sam, who appear to be having a very serious conversation. Then again, I catch Sam cuddling her signature ham sandwich, so anything is possible.

I freeze when I reach the front exit of the school. _Anything is possible_.

I can't completely wrap my head around the fact that Sam Puckett has any sort of feelings towards me that aren't violent. Maybe it's just because I haven't had proper time, what with this whole time-traveling madness that I'm still partly convinced is a dream I'm having. And if so, said dream probably during the lock-in and Sam is drawing inappropriate sketches on my face, because that's normal. That's expected.

But I digress.

Somewhere in the deepest, least favorite section of my brain I know that I'll have to further contemplate that crazy kiss should I fail tonight, which more or less forces me to do the unthinkable: violate school policy and leave the lock-in early. Skip Carly's horse analogy, skip my stupid, heartfelt speech about taking chances, and get out while I still can.

Her timing perfect, I spot Sam waltzing away from Carly, shouting something that sounds like "I can try!" The apparently extremely loveable ham sandwich is still in her death grip.

When she is out of Carly's sight, Sam shakes her head and sighs, and for just one moment, Sam Puckett is an average, angst-filled teenage girl.

That is, of course, until she notices I'm standing there.

"Hey, Freddo," she greets me, her face brightening up a considerable amount. I study her expression, dumbfounded and…happy? Yeah, yeah, I think I do feel happy. How had I never noticed how her whole face changed like that when she said one of my many, many nicknames?

"Yo-yo," I reply, out of sheer habit, before flashing forward to what is to come and mentally kicking myself. I just need to keep things professional. "Listen, I need your help."

She shrugs and inhales her sandwich. "Alright. Try me." She's trying so hard to be nice right now. I can see it in her eyes. She wants so badly for me to see her differently, and it's weird because she doesn't understand that I love her just the way she is. I mean, like her just the way she is. I mean, you know… oh, forget it.

"I have to go home," I explain, knowing full well that Sam is an expert at catching lies, which worries me, "My mom's, um, sick. I have to take care of her. Pick the lock for me?" Staying clear of Sam all night is going to benefit the both of us in the long run.

At least, that's what I tell myself.

"I… yeah, sure," Sam agrees, though she looks pretty suspicious, "You okay, Benson?"

I shrug her concern off like it's nothing. "Fine, Puckett, just fine."

"O-kay." With that, she pushes past me to the door, and I follow close behind. She crouches to the doorknob and pulls a bobby pin out of her long mess of hair.

"If you can't do it, don't feel – " _Click._ The door flies open with ease, and Sam pushes herself back onto her feet. When she turns to me, she's grinning proudly, and it's so contagious that I have no choice but to grin right back. "Thanks," I say.

"It's what I'm here for," Sam jokes, stepping aside to let me through. I keep on grinning as I step out, letting the cool night air take me over. I choose to walk home.

By the time I arrive at my apartment, it's about eleven o'clock. I feel very confident that I have avoided the kiss, not to mention the conflict in full. Mom is already fast asleep, knowing that I am diligently working on a project at school. I yawn, feeling the weight of my eyelids. I mean, even though it's technically eleven, back in the realm of normalcy it's two or three hours later. I decide I really, really need to sleep and any thinking that needs to be done, I can do tomorrow, or the day after, or the day after that.

11:40. I fix myself a cup of water, brush my teeth, floss – twice, strip down to boxers and a T-shirt - once, and eagerly hop into bed. Almost immediately, I am enveloped in a troubled, but dreamless sleep.

However, the next thing I know, somebody strong and intolerant is shaking me awake.

"C'mon, Fredgeek!" I vaguely hear Sam whisper, "Up and at 'em! Let's _goooo_!"

"Five more minutes," I mumble, before coming full circle into reality and springing off my pillow in shock. "Sam? What are you doing here?"

She clicks on my bedside lamp as I roll out of bed. With a horrible jolt I realize I am standing before Sam Puckett in my boxers and I can't stop the heat from rising to my cheeks.

"Ugh, it's just," Sam for some reason, ignores my vulnerable state and goes on to explain herself, "I couldn't take Carly anymore. Brad this, Brad that. She thinks I'm in love with the guy. I mean, really? After knowing him for two minutes? Who does she think I am? So I had to get out of there and I dunno…" She pauses, breaking eye contact with me, "I just felt like I should come here. You know, to talk to you. And stuff."

_And stuff._ Maybe it's the lack of sleep, but the glow from the lamp makes Sam look really pretty. And relatively kiss-able. And –

I halt my thoughts and abruptly check the clock. 12:01 AM. _Oh no_.

"Sam!" I shout out, putting my hands up and quickly moving around her, escaping my bedroom through the door as she watches, puzzled, "You've got to get out of here. Like, now!"

"Uh, why?" she presses, following me as I back off.

"Be-be-because!" I respond cleverly, "Because something really bad is gonna happen if you don't!"

She furrows her eyebrows. "Tech-Boy say what?" We're clumsily running down the stairs now, the clock ticking, and I know, I just _know_, that if I can just get Sam out that door before she's supposed to kiss me, I'll have succeeded, and order will be restored.

I stop at the apartment's exit and take a deep breath, ready to attempt to explain, "Look, I'll tell you what's going on later, but right now you have to go." Sam stays put, instead choosing to cross her arms and glare at me.

"Rude much?" she says with a huff. This is coming from the girl who shoved an entire McDonald's Happy Meal down my shirt last Friday. "I come here all revved up and… _sharing_ things, and you kick me out? Really, Benson?" She almost looks hurt.

I sigh, placing my hands on her surprisingly lean shoulders to maneuver her out the door. "Don't you trust me?" I mean for this to come out exasperated, yet somehow, it's barely a whisper. I stop moving. I stop breathing. We stare each other down, too close, far too close.

12:03 AM.

In response, Sam carefully snakes her arms around my neck and pulls me in for a kiss. Instinctively, I open my eyes, wide. I don't move, but this time, I feel it. Like, really _feel _it. Her soft lips, the way we just…fit together, weird, out-of-place, exploding fireworks and hallelujah choruses… I can't deny that I want this. Badly. _Wait! No!_

I rip myself away from the admittedly amazing moment and back off. "No! Sam, we can't!"

Her mouth falls open. Then closes again. I've never seen her look more embarrassed in my life. She's all bewildered and ashamed in herself, and I feel like the biggest jerk on the planet, but I'm way too frazzled to do anything about it. This is all too much. _Too much_. "Dude, I honestly don't know why I did that just now– " _I do._

"I was supposed to prevent this from happening!" I almost shout, more to the world than myself, "Not fuel it! Agh!"

"Are you on some kind of new crazy medication?" Sam asks, fuming. "'Cause you're acting like a total – " Halfway through her insult, she freezes completely, and because my life is far from even remotely normal or commonsensical today, I am once again swept up in a physically impossible one-room tornado, leaving Sam and whatever is left for her to say, on the ground.

I watch the unbelievable scene around me this time, gazing through the gusts of wind at my life rewinding, like a show recorded on WiVo.

When I finally emerge from the unprecedented weather situation, it's not so friendly, as I crash face-first into the chair in front of my laptop, back in the cafeteria. I groan, pick myself up, and rearrange my shirt. I notice everybody around me is still frozen in place. My fellow classmates have all paused in their respective project areas. Sam is looking straight at me, motionless. Brad is mid-sneeze.

All of a sudden, an unknown force whacks at my shoulder. I cringe instantly, trying to identify the person but they are way too swift. "You - !" _Whack._ "Are – " _Whack_. "So -!" _Whack._ "Stupid!" _Whack, whack, whack. _"You can't just mess with fate like that! It'll just mess right back!"

"Quit beating on me!" I yell in protest to none other than Adelaide, Carly's creepily-glowing look-alike. With a Carly-appropriate huff, Adelaide takes a seat on the desk in front of me and makes a point to glare at me in utter disapproval.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" Adelaide says sarcastically, "My bad. I'll just let to continue to _totally blow your second chance with Sam_ because of your _idiotic boy brain_!"

"B-but I thought the whole point to this was to stop the kiss from happening?" I explain avidly, and then I shield my face from her, "Don't hit me again."

"No! That is just about the dumbest thing I have ever heard!" Adelaide scolds, "That kiss. It's inevitable, no matter what. Don't you see it?"

"See _what_?" I snap, feeling tired and irritable. I just want to go home and sleep.

"You and Sam," Adelaide clarifies, "How you're, you know… perfect for each other."

Now this I feel awake for. In fact, I already have a speech I've memorized each time someone has accused me of this very same notion, "Me and Sam? Ha! I don't know what planet _you're_ living on, or what webshow _you're _tuning into, but I assure you, there's nothing going on between me and Sam with the exception of combat and rival – "

"Oh, cut the garbage-spewing, Freddie," Adelaide interrupts me.

"It's _not_ garbage-spewing!" I argue.

"Say what you will, but that kiss was not all that much of a shock to you."

"Psh."

"_And_ you enjoyed it."

"And again, _psh_!"

"You really don't believe me?" Adelaide asks skeptically. "_Really_?"

"Not a chance," I huff, crossing my arms and leaning back in my chair. However, truthfully, I'm getting a little nervous, so I throw in a, "I love _Carly_, not Sam!" for good measure.

"Okay," Adelaide shrugs, "Then I suppose I have no choice but to prove it to you." She snaps her fingers, and a large flat-screen TV appears right before my very eyes. I blink twice, wondering if maybe I'm imagining it. Imagining all of this, really. "Exhibit A…"

**A/N: I was going to go a bit further, but I don't want each chapter to be monstrously long, so I thought I'd end it there. What'd you guys think?**

**Freddie's problem is that he's analyzing his "second chance" in a manner that is concrete. I thought this was in-character for him because he thinks very logically and in detail, often missing the big picture. The SAM picture, that is. ;)**

**Oh, and I'd like to point out that since I'm not totally sure what will go down in iLost My Mind, for NOW, I don't think I will include it.**

**Thanks for reading!**

**-Colors**


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary:** Freddie must relive the events of the lock-in over and over until he gets it right.

**Disclaimer:** iCarly is owned by the remarkably ingenious Dan Schneider, not me.

iDo It Over

Chapter 3

"Exhibit A…" Adelaide says with a smile, pressing a button on the remote that appears in her hand out of thin air. Already I can tell I'm not going to like this, spontaneously materializing technology aside. The television blinks on, displaying a scene that is almost too familiar.

"_But I always tell you how important you are to the show!_" a younger version of Carly argues.

"_Yeah, __**you**__ do_," I'd said approximately four years ago, looking pointedly at Sam.

"Wait," I ask, glancing around the room, still holding on to some hope that this is some kind of practical joke or mirage or something, "H-how do you even a video have this? Nobody recorded it!"

"We at the SCC see everything," Adelaide explains, in an annoying, perky way, "Especially the stuff we're not supposed to see! Now, sshh!"

"_Freddie_," Sam on the screen says nervously. I remember this moment clear as ever, because for some reason I never really bothered to contemplate, it is one I really cherish. It's hard to catch Sam in a moment of kindness, at least sans kicking and screaming along the way. "_You're just as important to iCarly as we are." _I can't help but crack a smile as I watch us hug, only to grimace at the wedgie that follows. My butt hurt for days after that stunt she pulled!

"_She gave me a wedgie!"_

_ "No charge! Now let's do the show_!"

"Well would you look at that," Adelaide says smugly, "You craved acceptance from Sam, and she gave it to you, 'no charge'. Now does that sound like a pair that loathes each others' existence? Not to me."

"So?" I try, once I notice Adelaide looking at me expectantly, "We've had our serious moments. Doesn't prove anything." I smirk in satisfaction and lean back in my chair.

Adelaide rolls her eyes impatiently and presses another button on the remote. The scene flips to the halls of Ridgeway High School.

"_You gave up that cool trip just to get rid of Missy_," Carly on the screen states knowingly.

"_I was protecting iCarly_," the stupid, busted me gives unconvincingly.

"_No_," Carly says, and I groan inwardly at the statement I know is coming, "_You care about Sam!"_

"Well, of course I care about Sam!" I exclaim defensively, "She _is _my friend, after all! Sort of. I didn't want her to be all sad and miserable!"

"And why's that? Adelaide pries, the same uncomfortable, knowing look as on-screen Carly, "After all, it's practically Sam's life mission to make _you_ all sad and miserable."

"Because… because…" I rack my brain for something intelligent to say, but upon discovering nothing of the sort I go with, "Be_cause_!"

"Because you wanted her to be happy!" Adelaide sing-songs, "Because you _like_ her!"

"You're insane!" I scoff, furious at her words.

"Am I?" Adelaide checks, sounding far too cocky for the little amount of impact I am outwardly displaying, "Hmm, let's see then." Again, the scene on the TV changes.

"_I was just gonna say…_" Suddenly my heart is pounding in my ears, which are no doubt turning bright red at the scene before me.

"_That **we** should kiss?" _Sam finishes the deadly sentence.

_"You're gonna break my arm now, right?"_

_ "No."_ Seriously, how does Adelaide have footage of this?

"Must we view this?" I ask, my voice clipped.

Adelaide smirks at my not-so-enthusiastic reaction. "We must." Honestly, it's extremely uncomfortable, not to mention entirely irritating because like it or not I could recite our entire conversation forwards and backwards from that night out on the fire escape.

I mean, sure, I acted like Sam and I were totally normal in our own totally _ab_normal way come the next morning, and every morning since, but it's not something easily forgotten. Nothing about Sam is easily forgotten, really.

"_Well…lean,"_ Sam commands, impatient as ever. I watch myself fall face-first into what I can't refute was probably the most confusing, whirlwind of emotion I've ever experienced up until yesterday… well, technically still today, when a similar but significantly less expected occurrence took place.

"I've seen enough," I snap at Adelaide, "Shut it off."

"Wait, we're almost at the best part!" she disregards my feelings completely. I make an attempt at grabbing the remote from her hands, but she jumps off the desk and instead I snatch at air.

"_Hey_." Sam whirls around. "_I hate you_." I watch as she laughs genuinely, and this weird feeling takes me over. I kind of want to rewind the clip, just to see her laugh like that again.

"_Hate you too_." Adelaide pauses the clip during a perfect view of my stupidly happy face as Sam exits.

"_Sooo_ do I even need to say it, or does that one speak for itself?" she asks, overly proud of herself.

"You know what?" I stand from my chair and cross my arms, trying my best to look intimidating, "I don't even care. Sam and I aren't meant to be anything except for sworn enemies and occasionally allies, but that's _it_. The _end_. _El fin_. Roll the credits, play the music, throw away your empty bag of popcorn." Adelaide throws her hands up in exasperation, clearly frustrated with me, which is weird because I'm being really logical right now. "I'll prove it to you!"

"This'll go well," Adelaide comments sarcastically, before snapping her fingers and disappearing. I briefly scan the room for a hologram projector or something of the variety. No such luck.

However, life around me begins to stir again. Except for Sam, who's sitting still as a statue, posing for the MoodFace app.

"Can I move now?" Present Sam inquires, bored.

"Uh…" _I'll show that Adelaide. We're not in love and we never will be!_ "Do whatever you want, I don't care." Sam gives me a quizzical look but still takes the opportunity to grab her chips… again.

Brads asks, "So what's her mood?" as he messes with the camera. And I know this is my cue to say something unintelligent and then bolt out of the room, but this today will yield alternate arrangements.

"Hateful!" I exclaim, giving Sam my most convincing look of utter annoyance, "Seriously, Sam? You just can't not hate me for one second, can you?"

Sam raises an eyebrow. "Well, I – "

I place a hand up to silence her. "Save the insult, Puckett."

"I wasn't going to insult you," Sam explains, and I know she means it.

"Well, you should have!" I push. After conveniently deleting Sam's actual read, I move around the computer and approach her, "'Cause you know, we irrevocably hate each other, like a _lot_, so it would have made sense!"

"Um, sure?" The agreement comes out as more of a question than an affirmation.

"Guys, why don't we get back to the project now?" Brad cuts in, sensing that something isn't quite right.

"And spend more time with the _demon_?" I gasp, fake-appalled, "I'd rather swim in an ocean of rabid hobos than stand next to _this_ – " I point straight at Sam, "For any longer!" The most unexpected thing happens. Sam's face falls, like a kicked puppy. My face immediately softens, and I wonder if maybe I've gone too far, until Sam responds.

"Well, I'm buckets of sorry you feel that way, Freddo," she shrugs, looking away from me, "But Mama needs an A to pass the eleventh grade, so I'm not goin' anywhere. What next, Brad?"

Brad clears his throat awkwardly, obviously feeling pretty out-of-place in mine and Sam's never-ending bubble of confusion. "Uh, first of all, I say we gather a couple more test subjects, see if any problems arise. Second of all – " His face brightens significantly. "We need more fudge! So I'll grab some from my backpack."

"Sweet! I'll get the project monkeys," Sam offers, "One sec!" I watch, astounded, as she marches out the double doors. I can't believe it. I bust out some of my best frenemy banter, and nothing. _Nothing_! I just can't seem to break her little nice-girl act. I'll have to try harder.

"Dude," Brad addresses me casually, pulling a container of fudge out of his backpack, "Why are you going out of your way to pick a fight with Sam?"

"I'm not going out of my way," I argue, "It's what people do, you know, when they _hate_ each other, like Sam and I do, always have, and always will." Everything is going according to plan. Now I just have to – wait, why is Brad chuckling to himself? "Why are you chuckling to yourself?" I ask aloud.

"Oh, nothing," he answers, still laughing, "It's just… the whole hatred act with you and Sam… it's cute."

_What?_

"It is not _cute_!" I insist forcefully, "And it's not an act! It's loathing, unadulterated loathing!"

"Whatever you say, Elphaba," Brad dismisses, "Hey, want some fudge?"

"No!" I snap, still annoyed about his comment.

Brad holds the container of delicious, fudgy fudge up to my nose, smirking. "Really? You sure?"

"Ah, just give me the fudge!" I holler, snatching a piece and popping it into my mouth. The delectable food melts in my mouth, and for some reason I feel loads better. "Good fudge," I compliment him, chewing.

"I know," Brad says with a smile.

"Sorry I snapped at you, Brad," I apologize sincerely. After all, it's not Brad's fault. I just need to be clearer in my intentions. Sam's a hard egg to crack, but an egg, like the rest of us, nonetheless.

"It's alright, no harm done."

For the next ten minutes or so, Brad and I tweak some settings on MoodFace and test camera angles. As soon as I see Sam herding in a group of our classmates, I make my move.

"Hmm, is it me, or does it smell like failure in here all of a sudden?" I ask around innocently, before directly my gaze at Sam, "Oh, now I get it."

"Clever," she states, her face infuriatingly unreadable, surprise, surprise.

"I'd better leave before it spreads," I elongate the joke, backing away before nonchalantly stepping through the open door. I feel elated. Surely Sam is bound to crack and retaliate soon enough. Then we'll argue, and we'll hate each other. Like always.

Down the hallway, I spot Carly, leaning against her locker with her unmistakable I'm-about-to-butt-into-someone's-life face on, and something tells me I know exactly what she's thinking about.

"Hey," I say, "What's - ?" Before I can finish my greeting Carly grabs my arm and shakes it wildly.

"Guess what I figured out, guess what I figured out, guess what I figured out!" she chirps excitedly.

"Miss Briggs is going to be deported?" I ask hopefully.

"I know why Sam's been acting so weird!" she explains, confirming my suspicions, "Why she's wanted to hang with you _and Brad_ all the time, why she's been so nice to you _and Brad_! Wait for it…" She pauses, as if I am about to be blown away by a false statement I've heard all too many times already, "Sam is in _love_ with _Brad_!"

"That's funny," I point out, "I didn't think Sam was capable of deep emotion. Or any emotion, for that matter." Carly gives me a disapproving look.

"Harsh," she states, not amused.

"How'd you come up with this idea anyway?" I ask curiously. After all, unlike the last two times, I hadn't shown her Sam's MoodFace reading.

Carly ponders the question for a moment. "I… don't really know," she admits with a shrug, "It kind of just planted itself in my brain... Anyway, I just tried talking to her about it."

"She admit it?"

"Denied."

"I figured." And with a jolt, I recognize the conversation at hand.

"Eh, she's just a little awkward about liking guys," Carly tells me. My mind flashes through a movie-like montage of all the beatings, insults, and eye twitches I've received from Sam throughout the years I've known her. _A little awkward. Oh, totally._

"Oh well," I dismiss, hoping once again that she'll drop the matter.

"N-n-no, no! No 'oh well'!" Carly stops me, persistent, "We're gonna make this happen."

"Why?" I almost complain.

"'Cause Brad's awesome!" I don't even bother masking my annoyance this time around. "It's the first time Sam's ever liked a guy who's not disgusting! Or heavily tattooed! Or on parole!" Brad's an okay guy. But I just…

Wait a sec, why am I even thinking about this still? I _know_ Sam doesn't like Brad… she doesn't, right? And even if she did, it's got nothing to do with me!

"But if Sam won't even admit that she likes him," I bring up, "Then how are we going to - ?"

"You're seen the animal channel," Carly remarks, looking suddenly uncomfortable, and I can't help but smirk because I know what's coming. "The…the…"

"The horses?" I ask, stifling a laugh. Carly turns a lovely bright red.

"So we're on the same page," she says stiffly, "Anyway, here's what I have planned…"

I tune out Carly's barn-themed plan, considering I know all about it already, and instead just take the couple of moments to stare at her.

Despite what I said to Adelaide earlier, I don't think I _really_ love Carly anymore. I haven't for a while. Not in, you know, _that_ way, at least. Somewhere along the line, I just… stopped. Anything left is more of a safety blanket, a force of habit, than anything else. A way to keep things the same.

I like things that are orderly. I like things that are reliable. I like things that are constant. It's why I'd orbited around Carly in the first place. It's also why Sam and I had rubbed each other the wrong way from the start. It's why I have to prove once and for all that Sam and I together would be disastrous beyond measure.

Soon enough it's time to initiate Carly's plan. The two of us roam into the cafeteria.

"Uh, hey everyone!" I shout, all according to procedure, "I just saw a two-headed frog out in the courtyard!" They all look confused, so I go on to explain, "Two heads! On a frog! Come on…" I stop, a brilliant idea taking shape as I catch sight of Sam and Brad watching me. "_Carly _will show ya!"

Brad. How could I not see it before? How could I be so blind? It's the ultimate, foolproof way to demonstrate to Adelaide and whomever else that Sam and I aren't meant to be. I mean, just because Sam isn't in love with Brad now doesn't mean she can't be in the future. Maybe even the _near_ future. That, combined with the constant fighting that will takes place an account of Sam cracking, (which she _will_, mark my words) should be enough valid evidence.

"Yes, follow me," Carly instructs, too ecstatic that her plan is falling into place to remember that I was supposed to lead the frog thing. I watch a large portion of my classmates shuffle towards the exit behind Carly. Soon enough, the room is deserted except for Sam and Brad. When they attempt to leave, I awkwardly step in front of them and hold my arms out.

"Uh, you guys can't leave!" I shout nervously.

"Why not?" Sam asks with a slight laugh.

"We wanna see the two-headed frog!" Brad adds enthusiastically.

"I…uh… well, I kind of exaggerated the number of heads." Slowly, I back away from them, towards the door, and shut off the lights. Then, I try my best to sound really sly when I say, "I'm not coming back." I make my way out the door and as soon as its closed, I plunk to the ground and squint into the crack between the two halves of the door. Luckily, Ridgeway High has very thin doors, great for eavesdropping. How do I know that? Sometimes being friends, more or less, with Sam Puckett has its perks.

"Just a… one-headed frog," Brad says awkwardly, pointing out the door. Sam shakes her head, and though I can't see all too well something tells me she's not very happy right now.

"Less impressive," she replies, elongating the fact through gritted teeth. For a arbitrary amount of seconds, both of them remain silent. My back starts to itch, but I don't dare tear my eyes away. I need to know what happened in there if I have any prayer of reversing it.

"'Kay, so I know I'm new here," Brad begins, trying to lighten the mood, "But I know a set-up when I see one."

"Yeah, Carly doesn't do subtlety," Sam shakes her head, "Neither does Frednub – I mean, Freddie."

"Did they do this because you… like me, or something?" he asks, stumbling over the words.

Sam takes a deep breath, something I know she's been trying lately to control her rage. "No. They did this 'cause they think I like you just 'cause I've been hanging around you and Freddie a lot."

"Are they right?" Brad asks tentatively.

"If only!" Sam spontaneously burst out, throwing her hands in the air with a scoff. Brad jumps backwards, startled. "That'd be loads better, you know? If I just liked _you_. Normal, reasonable, un-dorky _you_. And not – "

"Freddie?" Brad smiles knowingly. My heart beats rapidly and beyond my control hearing my name tossed into the realm of possibility.

"Look, I'm sorry Carly brought you into this," Sam ignores him, speaking hurriedly, "But I've got to end this mess. I'll be back to help you with the project later."

"O…" Before Brad can even finish the word, Sam is running for the exit, "kay?" Realizing that this is the perfect opportunity, I break my promise and fly through the door, blocking Sam from leaving.

"Move," she says simply.

"Make me," I reply, braver than I feel.

"Benson," she growls warningly.

"Sam, you're missing out on a great opportunity here," I tell her under my breath, "Brad's perfect for you, he's got to be, so just… go back there… give him a chance!"

"I don't _want_ to."

_Alright,_ I decide, _so plan B doesn't seem to be working out so well._ _Time to switch back to plan A. "_Then what're you waiting for? Shove me. Insult me. Get me out of the way."

Sam shifts her weight, rolling her eyes. "I don't want to do that either. What's wrong with your brain today?"

"_My_ brain?" I sputter, losing options and fast, too, too fast, "You just said you don't want to inflict emotional or physical harm on me, and you're asking what's wrong with _me_? Just… just do it, Puckett! Be mean to me!"

"I don't know what you want me to say to that, dude!" Sam cries out.

"You're obnoxious, insensitive, lazy and psychotic!" I throw at her, "Now, it's your turn! Come on. Let's hear it." I look to her, almost eagerly.

To my surprise, instead of the defensive, strong Sam I expect, I come face-to-face with a Sam who looks like she just might cry if I turn away for long enough. She brushes past me, colliding her shoulder into mine with just enough force to knock me backwards, and in a flash she is out the door, down the hallway, to who knows where.

"That went super well," Brad informs me in a fake-cheerful tone.

And that, that is when the idiocy of the situation crashes through me like a bulldozer. Who am I to tell Sam how she's supposed to act? Who am I to tell Sam who she should go for? What does it matter anyway?

It's me. It's always been me. Nothing I say or do tonight is going to change the way Sam feels.

With that in mind, I leave the cafeteria, guessing exactly where Sam is hiding from the rest of the world.

I'm right.

She's sitting in that same spot, with that same water bottle, and that same conflicted frown. Funny how differently the events had played out this time, yet here we are.

I don't wait at the door. I feel relatively confident that she won't cause me internal bleeding, so I hesitantly walk outside and sit beside her. "Yo-yo." Instantly, she turns away.

The clock outside the high school begins chiming midnight. We both sit there in silence, waiting for it to pass.

"I think I owe you an explanation," I eventually admit to her slouched back, "And an apology." I add, "I'm really sorry about that, Sam."

She doesn't say much for a while, and I contemplate checking her pulse before she quietly mumbles, "Go on."

"Um, well…" I pat my knees awkwardly, searching for words. "The – the reason I was trying to provoke you, and also why I tried to set you up with Brad, was because…." I take a deep breath. "S-somebody insisted we were destined to be… you know, more than friends." At this, Sam's head whips around, clearly shocked at where the conversation is heading. "I wanted to prove them wrong. And I guess I went kind of overboard."

"Jumped ship _and_ drowned," Sam clarifies, smirking. _Wait, was that a joke?_ Relief washes over me.

It dawns on me just how devastated I would have been otherwise. That somewhere along the line, Sam has become one of the most important entities in my life. I don't know what I would do without her, without arguing with her, without making smoothie runs with her, without being close to her, without watching her laugh -

"Stupid, right?" I laugh hollowly, realizing with terrifying clarity that the notion is, in fact, not stupid. Not stupid at all.

"People are dumb," Sam shrugs, breaking eye contact.

"_So_ dumb," I agree with a nod. Somewhere inside me, there's this gnawing feeling. Part of me is afraid to find out, but a stronger part just has to know. "…there's only one way to be sure though." I gulp, anxiously awaiting her response.

Somehow, some way, she knows exactly what I'm thinking. "…Just to make sure they're wrong." Her eyes meet mine.

"Just to make sure they're wrong," I agree. It's the fire escape all over again. I don't know why I'm so nervous. It's not like I haven't kissed Sam Puckett before. Yet at the same time, that's like saying, 'It's not like I haven't come out of a death trap alive' before. Yeah. Still scary.

12:03 AM.

Sam leans in, then I lean in, and I catch her soft lips with mine. The rest of the world is no more. I close my eyes, letting myself, for the first time, accept the exploding, song-bird, out-of-my-element feeling racing inside me. The kiss, the feeling, it goes on, and on, and on. Chills run down my arm as she grips onto my shoulder, and I can't believe –can't _believe_ – the feeling that I could never get tired of this, of kissing my worst enemy, the death of me, the bane of my existence.

I love this girl. I totally love her. I can't run from it anymore.

She stiffens.

I slowly pull away, confused. Her eyes are still closed, her lips are still puckered, but she's motionless. A moment too late I realize what's happening.

"Aw, cheese and crackers!" I shout in utter frustration, as the tornado I have grown to despise once again lifts me off the ground and takes me back, back, back…

And then I'm in front of the MoodFace App, with a bored Sam staring at me from across the room.

"What'd I do _now_?" I cry out.

**A/N: Poor Freddie. He just can't catch a break, can he?**

**I wonder if you guys can figure out "the problem" with this scenario. What do you think? Let me know!**

**In the meantime, I HAVE to thank you guys. It's only been two chapters, and already I have over 40 reviews! Eeee! SO INSANE! THANK YOU THANK YOU! You guys are the best ever. EVER.**

**Stay tuned for more!**

**-Colors**


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary:** Freddie must relive the events of the lock-in over and over until he gets it right.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own iCarly. I do, however, own about a thousand bottles of nail polish! Just as cool, right? RIGHT? Meh.

iDo It Over

Chapter 4

"What'd I do _now_?" I cry out. _Honestly! Sam and I kissed! Mutually! Sans brutality or blood spill! I don't see what's wrong with - _

"What happened?" Brad asks worriedly, lowering the camera. Apparently the whole 'freeze while Adelaide scolds me' bit isn't happening anymore. _Speaking of which, where is she?_ "Did something malfunction?"

_Yes, my ever-depleting sanity, thanks for asking_. "Uh, n-no, I just… "

"Can I move now?" interrupts Sam, jaded. I shift my vision to the blonde, the same nuisance, or pain, or girl, who has sat before me just like that for about three times already. Yet, now that I know that, you know, I'm sort of in love with her despite the fact that I'm her human punching bag, I literally cannot tear my eyes away.

Part of me, a part I don't like all too much, tries to convince myself that what I'd been feeling back there, when we kissed (again), was a product of sleepiness, or getting caught in the moment, or hormones, but no, no, I'm too smart to trick myself.

I know what I felt, and it's utterly bewildering.

A moment too late it dawns on me that I have yet to answer her simple question.

"Freddie?" she gives me a look as if to say, 'let's get a move on.'

"Uh, yeah," I tell her quickly, turning red, "You can move now." Sam hops up to go get her bag of chips as I stare down at the computer screen, trying to snap out of whatever I'm snapped in to.

And that is when I notice the note typed into a Microsoft Word document.

_**FREDDIE. KEEP IT **__**REAL**__**.**_

_** -ADELAIDE**_

Suddenly I feel compelled to chuck this computer through the wall, only to feel horrible moments later about thinking such blasphemous thoughts. Still though, the note irritates me more with each second that passes. Adelaide has the audacity to not show up, and all she gives me is… _Keep It Real_?

"So what's her mood?" Brad inquires.

I let out a huff of furious breath, run my fingers through my hair, and try to focus my exhausted, scattered brain waves. This becomes increasingly difficult once Sam enters my field of vision, cutely drinking from her Wahoo Punch. _Keep it real, keep it real… so does that mean…?_

"In love," I declare, my throat dry, "Sam's mood is 'in love.'" From across the room, Sam literally chokes on her Wahoo Punch. Brad hurriedly rushes over and offers up his training in the Heimlich maneuver, but Sam waves him away, indicating she's fine, despite her continuous coughing and gasping for air.

"Am not!" she soon shouts.

"That's what it says," I tell her simply.

"Well, it's wrong!" she insists.

"Actually," Brad cuts in, "The application has a ninety-nine point nine nine eight percent accuracy."

"Not helping, Brad!" Through this whole exchange, I'm still staring into space near Sam's general vicinity. She, of courses, notices my gawking. "What is it, Fredward?"

"It's me."

Sam scoffs, impatient. "This'll be good. _What's _you, Benson?"

I gulp, trying to ignore my heart racing spastically, "The guy you're in love with. It's me." All at once it's as if every ounce of oxygen has been sucked from the room. The water bottle in Sam's hand crunches under the pressure of her clenching fist. It gives way completely and water shoots from the top.

"I…think I should leave," Brad stammers, backing away.

"Stay!" Sam points to Brad without taking her eyes off me. He freezes. "I need witnesses when I say this." She steps forward, and I have to admit, I'm a bit afraid. She takes a deep breath. "Freddie, I don't know what planet you're living on, but – "

"It's true and you know it," I cut her off, my voice steady. I almost want to back down, because I've never seen Sam so trapped before, and I don't particularly like it. But Adelaide wants real, so real is what she'll get. "Just admit it and we can move on."

"I'm gonna go get some more project monkeys!" she announces sharply, marching out with a slam of the door. Before she leaves, I'm almost sure I see her glance back at me nervously.

"You guys should really have your own television show or something," Brad remarks cheerfully.

"Oh, put some fudge in it, man," I tell him, following Sam out the door. She's standing down the hallway, looking pretty distressed.

"Stupid dork," I hear her huff, which makes me smile in spite of myself. She pushes the door open to the room Carly and Gibby are working in. I stealthily make my way over and peer through the little window on the door. I'm honestly the best spy ever. Someone should follow me around playing the Mission Impossible theme song. "Carly!"

"'Oh hey Sam," Carly greets Sam kindly, "How's your MoodFace project going?"

"Listen!" she hisses, pulling Carly aside.

Carly frowns. "What's wrong?"

"You know how you and Freddie have been wondering what's up with me?" she explains. _Wait, what is she…?_

"Yeah?" Carly prods, puzzled.

"Why I've been wanting to hang with Freddie _and Brad_ all the time? Why I've been so nice to Freddie _and Brad_?"

"What's her game?" I whisper to myself. After all, Sam Puckett _always_ plays a game. Even when nobody else knows the rules.

"Well, what explanation do you _have_?" Carly pushes, with similar insinuation.

"You have to promise you won't meddle," Sam says warningly.

Carly smiles and raises her hand. "Scout's honor!"

"Okay." Sam's eyes shift left, then right, to Gibby.

"Gibby, leave," Sam orders.

"Aw, man!" Gibby complains, dejected, as he gestures to the stimulus chamber where Spencer is currently being tortured via foul-smelling gas, "And I was just about to crank the stink up to eleven, too!"

She glares menacingly. "Now."

"See ya!" In a fearful flash, he rushes out, luckily just as I figure out I should move out of the way for him. Once outside the door, he spots me. "Hey, Freddie!"

"Sshh!" I hush him, straining to hear the conversation again, "_Eaves_dropping!"

"Cool, how come?" he asks eagerly.

"Gibby!"

"Okay, okay, I'm goin'!" he raises his hands defensively as he strolls away, "Jeez!"

"…and my mood was 'in love.'" Sam practically whispers to Carly, frustrated.

"In love?" Carly asks happily, "With Brad?"

"Of course with Brad!" My mouth drops open in surprise.

She's bluffing. She's totally bluffing. Sam loves me, not Brad! Me! Freddie Benson!

Right?

"Sam, this is huge!" she cries gleefully, grabbing Sam's hands and happy-dancing. Carly stops, giving her lying, not-actually-in-love-with-Brad best friend a pleading look. "Can I help?"

"Carly…" Sam groans. "What happened to 'Scout's honor'?"

"Oh, you know I had to quit the Sunshine Girls in third grade after Spencer set the cookie oven on fire. _Please?_" Carly begs. "I'll be subtle, I promise!"

"Alright," Sam gives in, with a roll of her eyes, and from that moment on, I know… I just _know_… Sam is planning something. She'd never so easily allow Carly to butt into her love life. But the question is, what is she plotting, and why? "If you must. But don't tell people."

"Yay!" cheers Carly, "I'll be right back. Stay here and make sure Spencer doesn't pass out…" My eyes widen as I quickly back away from the door and rush to the other side of the hall, whistling casually. Carly exits and notices me immediately. "Uh, hey. How come you're standing out here?"

"Uh, I dunno… why _not_?" I retort nervously. "What're you, the Standing Police?"

"O…_kay_," Carly drags out the word, giving me a brief look, "Anyway, listen, I need your help. Sam likes Brad, and we're going to set them up!"

"Sam _doesn't_ like Brad," I inform Carly earnestly.

"She does! She just told me." Carly is smiling like she's won the meddling lottery. "I promised her I wouldn't tell people, but Sam doesn't count you as a human being, so no need to worry about that."

"Carly – "

"I have a plan that's just zany enough to work." She pauses. "You've seen the animal channel, right?"

"Carly!" I repeat, grabbing her shoulders, "Seriously, Sam _doesn't like Brad!_" I let her go.

"But your MoodFace app –"

" – said Sam was in love, yeah," I finish her sentence, feeling brave, "But it's not Brad. Sam only told you that to throw you off the scent. It's… it's _me _she loves. This is her way of covering it up."

Carly simply stares, her mouth agape, absorbing my earth-shattering statement.

I study her solemn face, wondering how she feels about the situation. I even consider explaining my own opinion when slowly, her features melt into a smile, then a giggle, then laughter. Hysterical laughter. Laughter so overpowering that she has to hold on to my shoulder in order to remain standing.

"Sam, in love with you!" she cries out, as if it's the most ridiculous notion in the world. Which, alright, so maybe it is, but it also happens to be true! _And_ reciprocated! "G-good one, Freddie! Oh, gosh, I…can't… breathe!"

"I'm not joking," I mutter, the embarrassment creeping in.

"Of course not," Carly giggles, "I forgot today was National Alternate Universe Day - " She lightly punches me in the arm, "Thanks for the reminder!" _Not funny. Not funny at all._

"Look, I'm _telling_ you – " Sam picks this moment, of all moments, to emerge from the classroom. She stares me down menacingly, and it becomes very obvious to me that she's pulling out every last drop of self-control not to pummel me to China right now. I gulp.

"I thought I told you to monitor Spencer!" Carly exclaims.

"Yeah, but Mama's hungry," she tells us, nodding toward the food cart down the hall before physically strolling that same way. "I hope you guys aren't planning any sort of set up or something!" I can't stop myself from rolling my eyes.

"Subtle, Puckett!" I holler, so she knows I'm on to her. Either she doesn't hear me or she doesn't care, because she continues on her merry way over to consume way more snacks than the typical human can.

Once Sam is out of earshot, Carly proceeds in ignoring everything I've just said.

"I'm gonna go launch Operation Farm Animals," she says blissfully, skipping in the other direction. She halts momentarily and turns back my way to add, "If anyone asks, you spotted a two-headed frog and it is the most astonishing creature to have ever graced this Earth!" Gibby greets me briefly as he reenters the classroom, but soon afterwards, I'm alone.

I slide down the wall behind me until I'm sitting down and wondering how in the world a petite but deadly blonde could be so insanely… _frustrating_! Like, all the time!

Here I am, trying to 'keep it real' by consistently telling the truth (I mean, what else could it mean?), and lo and behold, Sam Puckett has to step all over that, too. What, kissing me mid-sentence is all fine and dandy but the thought of a simple, direct confession sends her running scared? Why can't she just make this easy for me? Why is _nothing_ ever easy with her?

A few minutes of mental ranting about Sam go by, and eventually a herd of students are making their way towards the front exit, chattering about bi-cranial amphibians. Apparently it's National Alternate Reality Day for the average Ridgeway student, too. They are soon followed by a smug looking Carly, who had no doubt pulled her 'I'm not coming back' line again. I can almost feel Sam's anger from here.

_But wait…_ I realize, slowly and fearfully, _This time around, Sam wanted Carly to think she loved Brad… so… oh, my God. No._

I'm on my feet and running before I even finish the thought.

I burst through the cafeteria, only to face an empty room. I take off running towards the courtyard.

I can't help but feel foolish over being afraid of losing something, some_one_, I don't have. Not really, anyway. Not yet. But regardless, a Sam Puckett, well, that's a heck of a lot to lose. And I don't think I'm willing to.

Sam and Brad are in the courtyard. Sam has her back to me, but from my view through the window I can see Brad's smiling, genial face. I surprise myself by how angry it makes me.

"Well, well, well…" Carly comes up from behind me, chipper as an early bird, her arms crossed, "Looks like Operation Farm Animals is leaning towards success, don't you think?"

"Whatever," I snap, not for one second tearing my eyes away from the scene before me. I can't believe it. Sam's _not_ in love with Brad. It just can't be. Why is she doing this to me?

Forget me. Why's she doing this to _herself_?

"They're so cute," Carly coos. I feel slightly nauseated. This is not how it's supposed to go, is it?

By the way Sam is swaying, I can tell she's explaining something important to him. He's grinning. And now, now her arm is on his shoulder, and his hand is on her waist, and, and, and…

"Oh, enough of this chiz!" I explode, bursting through the courtyard entrance. Sam and Brad break away, shocked.

"Freddie!" Carly gasps, shocked.

"Get outta here, dork, we're busy!" Sam spits unconvincingly. Brad moves even further away, colossally confused. I can't say I blame him.

"You – " I point to Sam for dramatic emphasis, "Are in love with me! Just say so!"

"Oh, yeah," she says sarcastically, Carly and Brad watching in utter astonishment, "By the way I tell you I hate you everyday, beat you senseless, and wreck your self-esteem, I could totally see why you would think that."

"Listen to me," I hiss, stepping forward purposefully. _Keep it real._ "Okay, so, so this night? Tonight? It happened three other times already! Yeah! And-and the first time it happened, I-I came out here, like, around now, and you were all upset 'cause Carly was trying to set you up with _him_ – " I point to Brad, also for emphasis, "When you actually loved _me_! And-and so I was all, 'yo-yo, take a chance, Sam! You never know what might happen!' and th-then you kissed me! And _then_," I take a deep breath, trying to recollect the rest of the story, "I did _nothing_ and you stormed off and Carly yelled and then everything froze and this person or angel or something from the Second Chance Committee who looked just like Carly but wasn't actually Carly 'cause Carly was standing all frozen next to me, but anyway, this person, who was named Adelaide, turned back time! And I'm-I'm _stuck _going through the same night over and over until something happens that didn't before!" My entire speech I'm staring at the ground, pacing and gesturing wildly. "Which apparently has something to do with keeping things real, so if you could just swallow your incredibly irritating but strangely beautiful pride for, like, five seconds and just admit that you're in love with me, I could finally return to normal time and go to sleep 'cause did you know it's, like, already morning in normal time? I'm so _tired_!" I conclude my detailed explanation and look up at Sam.

She's gazing at me as if _I'm_ a two-headed frog.

Slowly, Carly approaches me and feels my forehead. "Freddie… uh, you feeling okay?" she asks gently.

"I-…" Sam clears her throat, and God how I wish I could see into that psychotic brain right now. "I've got Troubled Waters Mental Hospital on speed dial, should I…?"

12:03 AM.

"I'm not crazy!" I sputter, grabbing Sam's arm, "I'll prove it!" Acting on impulse, I pull Sam closer and land my lips messily on hers. And I feel the sparks. And I see the fireworks. I can literally feel that she loves me back, though she remains practically motionless aside from her lips colliding perfectly with mine. So why? Why can't she just say it? Why - ?

All of a sudden, from out of absolutely nowhere, a loud siren blares and everything around us begins flashing red. Sam and I pull apart instantly.

"What's going on?" Carly screams.

"Where's that coming from?" yells Brad.

"Look what you did!" Sam reprimands me.

"Look what _I_ did?" I shout. "I didn't do anything!"

"Um, obviously you did something, nub, there's an alarm – " Sam, Carly and Brad freeze, panicked expressions on their faces. Despite everything else around me being stock-still, the lights are still flashing, the siren still screeching. I feel like I'm caught in some sort of horror movie.

That's when none other than Adelaide appears in front of me, holding a bullhorn, and she is most definitely not happy.

"You broke the code!" she bellows through the bullhorn, her voice magnified. I hold my hands to my pained ears.

"Code? What code?" I attempt to shout over the piercing noise. Adelaide rolls her eyes and snaps her fingers, silencing the alarms, though the lights are still blinking in and out.

"_The Code_," she elaborates, snapping her fingers again. A small, white book appears in her dainty hands and she shoves it towards me. "Page eighteen, line ten. Read it out loud."

Sensing that no good is going to come out of this little lesson, I hesitantly flip to page eighteen and read the designated lines.

"_No client under any circumstances is to mention the help, idea or existence of the Second Chance Committee to anyone outside SCC staff_," I grudgingly recite, "How was I supposed to know?"

"Sorry for assuming you were intelligent enough to have common sense!" Adelaide scoffs.

"I didn't even know the SCC existed before this, and suddenly I'm expected to know their rule book cover-to-cover?"

"Keep reading."

I glare and look back down at the book. "_Penalty for said action is a final second chance_." I lift my head up in confusion. "What?"

Adelaide sighs. "Sorry, Freddie, I don't make the rules."

Pure panic swirls within me as I take in Adelaide's crestfallen face. "What? What is a final second chance?" She says nothing. My paranoia grows. "Tell me!"

"I'm going to turn the clock back one more time," she explains gravely, "_One more time._ If you can get it right, you shall be returned to your normal timeline. If not…" she looks away, "You'll be stuck within these same few hours… _forever_."

My insides lurch. My heart drops to my feet, pounds in my ears. I lose the ability to breathe. I think I'm going to be sick. Everything seems to be spinning, spinning… "Th-this is some sick joke, right? You're… you're kidding…" I fix my eyes on Adelaide hopefully, "…right?"

"One final shot at Sam, Freddie Benson," says Adelaide, as I am swept up in another catastrophic tornado, "Take it wisely."

**A/N: Yikes. Scary, huh? **

**I hope you guys liked this chapter. Great job to those of you who correctly guessed what Freddie had done wrong last chapter. The answer should have been somewhat obvious in this chapter, but in case it was not, I'll be happy yo explain in a PM!**

**Freddie's rant at the end of this was super fun to write. I hope I didn't make him too crazy… you have to understand, he's also quite tired, as he's been up all "night." Not to mention the emotional exhaustion.**

**May I just take a moment to FREAK OUT? I received almost FORTY REVIEWS for chapter three of this story! EEK! THANK YOU GUYS! THANK YOU GUYS! :D**

**Next chapter should be out within the next week. I plan on updating iTrap first. Love you guys, stay tuned!**

**-Colors**

**P.S. As it grew later, my review replies got a bit weirder, so I'm sorry to those towards the top who had to witness my insanity.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary:** Freddie must relive the events of the lock-in over and over until he gets it right.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own iCarly. I do, however, own about a thousand bottles of nail polish! Just as cool, right? RIGHT? Meh.

iDo It Over

Chapter 5

"Dude, you alright?"

It sounds like Brad, but I barely register the voice at all. It's like my senses are paralyzed as my thoughts race by a mile a minute.

These couple of hours, hours that were intended to be simple, typical hours spent at school with my good friends, have now become quite probably the most important, vital hours of my life. Hours that, if are spent wrong, will be the only ones I'll live from now 'til forever. _How? Why is this happening?_ I feel dizzy. I feel lost. I feel like… like nothing is within my control anymore.

_But,_ I realize, _it is. All of it._ I can return my life to normal, I can. I just need to think things through.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I answer Brad, my voice steady.

"Can I move now?" Sam asks me impatiently, again. I almost tell her no. Because as soon as Sam gets up, time is going to go on and on, closer and closer to the end. Or I guess it's more like lack thereof.

"Uh, sure," I give her my permission and watch with dread as Sam removes herself from the stool and grabs her bag of chips casually. It's always amazed me how… simply Sam Puckett takes on life, and life's chiz. A flop on the couch here, a punch in the arm there. It's one of the things I've always secretly admired and envied and, as I've crazily come to understand somehow, love about my blonde-headed foe. That, and her eyes. Blue and scary and warm and insane and hot to cold within an instant. They're just something else entirely. _She_ is something else entirely.

And there's just no way I'm willing to waste my last chance to have her.

I try to act normal, thinking that acting out of the ordinary is the last thing Adelaide and the rest of SCC want me to do. I shuffle papers and wires around the desk, attempting to look busy, when I stumble upon something that definitely wasn't there the last time.

A purple clipboard, the word ADELAIDE glittering at the top. Attached to it is a rather hefty stack of papers. However, a familiar name on the top page catches my full attention.

_**SUBJECT NOTES: BENSON, FREDWARD.**_

She must have left this here by accident. Do I dare?

"So what's her - ?" Brad begins, right on schedule.

"You know what?" I interrupt him, jumpy, "These readings, they're really… odd. Gibberish, nonsensical. I-I think I should go somewhere quiet and figure out the problem." I shut and lift up my laptop and its display of Sam's 'in love' reading, grab Adelaide's clipboard, and hurry towards the door.

"Want any help?" Sam offers genuinely.

"No," I say quickly, and clear my throat. "No, it'll go faster if I just breeze through it by myself." I smile, and add, "But thanks." Before either of my project partners can say anything further, I fly out the door.

Carly is right outside, as if she were about to enter the room.

"Hey, I was just coming to talk to you!" she says happily, "I just had a epiphany. You know how we've been wondering what's up with Sam? Why she's been - ?"

"I know, I know, you think that Sam is in love with Brad," I report hurriedly.

Carly's face scrunches up in confusion. "How'd you know?"

"Lucky guess." I glance around, wondering where I should go. Eventually my eyes land on the entrance to the AV room. I've done some of my most thorough thinking in there. "Listen, I need to go work out some kinks… you know, with the MoodFace app. I'll talk to your later?"

"Wait, Freddie!" Carly calls after me as I make a break for AV, "You didn't even hear my plan yet! The animal channel - !" The door slams behind me, and I take in a huge gulp of air, trying to calm the nerves buzzing my insides.

I place Adelaide's clipboard and my currently purposeless laptop on a wooden table at the center of the room and plop down into a seat, exhausted. Stifling a long-awaited yawn, I pour every ounce of concentration I've got left onto the page before me.

_**SUBJECT NOTES: BENSON, FREDWARD.**_

_** Trial 1 (Original) Fault(s): Insensitivity**_

_I **was** really, really stunned, but... I suppose I could have been more understanding._

_** Trial 2 Fault(s): Insensitivity, Fear**_

_Hey!_ I cry to myself, _I wasn't scared!_

Well, not in the ghost-vampire-spiders-darkness kind of sense, but now that I think about it the whole idea of Sam and my feelings for Sam, not to mention the knowledge that I needed to fix something without knowing exactly what I needed to fix, had definitely freaked me out.

_And insensitively… I don't – oh! I didn't hear her out when she'd come to my apartment to share stuff with me. That must've been it. Man, I'm such a nub._

_** Trial 3 Fault(s): Insensitivity, Fear, Deceptiveness **_

_Oh, come on. There's no way I've been increasing my mistakes each trial. It has got to be an error. Maybe there's another Fredward Benson, a self-destructive one, and Adelaide is simply mixing us up._

Grudgingly, the more I reflect on my third attempt of tonight, the more I see what she's talking about.

_I was really rude to Sam in trying – failing – to prove we loathe each other, so there's the insensitivity. _

_And… I guess I wanted to demonstrate that we hate each other because I was… scared of what would happen if we didn't. Hence, fear._

Adelaide had told me to 'keep it real,' and I had thought by that she meant I was being dishonest in my third attempt… but no. Deceptiveness is different from dishonesty. It means I had been leading others – Sam – into thinking I felt one way, hatred, when in actuality I felt another way. Both of us were doing that, looking back. With the whole 'let's kiss just to prove everybody is wrong about us being in love' ordeal.

_Alright, Adelaide, I'll give you that one, too._

_** Trial 4 Fault(s): Insensitivity, Fear, Deceptiveness, Forcefulness – BROKE CODE!**_

An overwhelming wave of exhaustion washes over me, and I yawn loudly. _No. Must. Keep. Going._

Okay, pushing Sam to admit she loves me, I admit wasn't the most beautifully sensitive action.

The only sort of fear I recall from last time is fear of losing Sam. Does that count? It'll have to do.

_Deceptiveness…_ I yawn again, my eyelids heavy, pushing myself to stay awake and focused. _I, um, eavesdropped… I guess that's relatively deceptive_.

Forcefulness is pretty obvious. I shouldn't have prodded Sam so fervently to confess her feelings. I was just desperate to make things alright again.

I rest my head on the clipboard, all my mistakes and blemishes swimming through my head.

So apparently, for things to work out between Sam and me, I have to be sensitive, brave, forthright and gentle.

_Okay… but… why?_

I mean, of course with Sam there are going to be moments sometimes where I need to be sensitive, or courageous, or straightforward or calm. But when it comes down to it, it's the illogical, out-of-this-world, crazy, bizarre chiz that defines us, Sam and Freddie.

_I don't get it. Ugh, I just… don't get it. What do I… do…?_

My eyes are closing, my mind is going blank. Sleep is taking me over, and I'm sinking, sinking, sinking…

…

"Yo, Freddork!"

My head leaves the desk instantly, and I look around, disoriented, to find my rude awakening.

"Sam!" I recite her name, in a mumbled protest, "Ever heard of a quiet entrance? I was trying to concentrate."

"Me? Quiet?" she scoffs, lazily plopping into the seat next to mine, "C'mon, dude, you know me better than that." She shoots an innocent smile my way, and I resist the urge to reach out to her, to hold her, because even through my exhaustion-impaired memory I know that I shouldn't, not yet.

"Unfortunately," I joke, smiling back, "I do." But she's barely listening to me anymore, instead she's now staring at my laptop off to the side. She's reaching out, intent on opening it, and for some reason, I let her.

The expression on her face as she peers onto the screen mirrors the expression she's making for the MoodFace photo.

"So this is my mood," she speaks up, her gaze shifting towards me. 'IN LOVE' flashes before both our eyes. I swear I see a blush creep up her cheeks, and it's astonishing, and different, and adorable.

"Yeah," I confirm, daring not to break eye contact, "That's your reading."

She raises an eyebrow. "But you don't believe it's my mood?"

"What?" I ask, startled.

"You said there was a malfusion," she reminds me harshly. I crack a smile.

"Mal_function_."

"Whatever! You still said it!"

"No, Puckett, I don't think the app _or_ your brain is malfunctioning," I assure her, a hint of a sardonic tone. She glares but visibly relaxes at my statement. "I only said that because I… I needed a sec to think over some things."

"What kinds of things?" Sam presses, eying me suspiciously.

"Important things!" I answer, for lack of a better response.

"What _kinds _of important things?"

"Sam!"

"I wanna know!" she insists.

"Well, that sucks eggs," I reply, crossing my arms and looking away, "Because I can't tell you. And even if I could, I wouldn't for the life of me know how." Sam sighs, deeply and frustrated. I watch her out of the corner of my eye as she glances around the room for a bit, as if making a decision, and then in the spur of the moment, grabs my hand and literally forces me out of the comfort of my chair. Her touch, abrasive and intimate, sends tingles up and down my spine. I have to consciously remind myself to breathe and blink and move and other significant actions.

"Come with me," she requests, grabbing my laptop. Though it is in no way a request, considering she is holding my hand and no way do I plan on letting go.

It dawns on me that I should probably be concerned. "Where are we going?" I inquire cautiously.

"Chillax, nerd," she assures me, squeezing my hand, "I just want to see something. Don't you trust me?"

"We're so dysfunctional," I find myself saying, though it in no way answers her question, "Like, all the time. We're always at each other's throats, always throwing each other off, embarrassing each other, ruining each other's day…"

"But you trust me," Sam repeats, holding my gaze, "Right?"

I smirk. Because my answer, though truthful, is funny. "More than anyone."

She leads me to the cafeteria, which is, for some reason, completely deserted.

"Where's Brad?" I wonder.

"Who cares?" Sam shrugs. She reluctantly lets go of my hand, and it feels cold now compared to her palm's warmth. That same hand of hers points to the stool where she had been sitting hours ago. "Sit."

I pull out my most puzzled look, waiting for an explanation.

"What, do I need to outline it in the sky with fireworks and daisies?" she exclaims, irritated, "_Sit. Down. Nub_."

I roll my eyes, but obey nonetheless, as Sam marches away. "You know, you _could_ say please." Instead of the blistering retort I expect, she just turns back towards me, a small smile playing at her lips.

"_Please_," she deadpans, before turning away again and making her way around the desk, where she carelessly drops my laptop and begins tampering with it. "Face forward." I face forward. She gazes at me, purposeful and determined. "Now, don't move." I remain still. "Look right at me." I already am.

The staring contest between me and Sam seems to last a lifetime. The only sounds that can be heard are coming from my laptop, calculating and processing. Eventually, I hear a familiar beeping sound. She glances down, and her gaze snaps right back to me. She appears shocked…happy? And I feel brave.

"Can I move now?" I ask, pretending to be bored.

She slowly nods and says "Yeah", studying me as if trying to figure me out. I remove myself from the stool and grab Sam's bag of chips. To my surprise, she doesn't protest.

"So," I begin, gaining momentum, "What's my mood?"

Sam sighs. "No sleeping in the AV room."

_What?_

"We're not in the AV room," I explain, puzzled, "Nor are we sleeping."

Sam takes a deep breath. "No sleeping in the AV room! Hey, didn't you hear me? Wake up, Freddie! No sleeping –

"In the AV room!" bellows the voice of Mr. Hendricks, faculty advisor for Ridgeway's AV club. My eyes fly open and I scream, flailing around and falling off my chair, followed by Adelaide's purple clipboard, which lands agonizingly on my stomach.

"_Owwww, pain!_" I moan, still sleepy. My eyes eventually adjust to the bright light, and I see Mr. H looking down on me.

"Are you okay, Freddie?" he asks, concerned.

"Not really!" I exclaim, squinting. Slowly, Mr. H helps me to my feet.

"Does this have something to do with Miss Puckett?" he jokes, all-knowing about how much Sam tortures me.

_Sam._

And with a sudden, eerie, harsh jolt, it all comes back to me. The kisses, the time-turning, the screw-ups, The Code. _The last second chance_.

"WHAT TIME IS IT?" I ask Mr. H frantically. Startled by my burst of panic, he hurriedly checks his watch. _How long have I been sleeping, wasting my chance away? Minutes? __**Hours?**_

"12:02 AM," Mr. H answers.

It's as if the ground has opened wide and sucked me in, or the sky is falling, or the world is ending.

One minute. I've got _one minute_.

"Sam!" I shout to the air, stumbling over another chair and quickly scraping myself back off the floor again, "I've got to find Sam!"

Hallways and lockers and students, all a messy, unimportant blur. I race for my life to the courtyard door, scrambling to find the right mind to open it. I finally get the dang thing open, and I run out.

She's sitting just where she has those other times before, looking distraught. I want her to be happy, and I can't shake the feeling that I've ruined any chance she has to be.

"Sam!" I call out again. "Sam! Uh…yo-yo!" Either she doesn't hear me, or she's freezing me out, both of which I don't have the time for. "Sam!" I run towards her, no plan in mind but hoping that by some miracle of fate I'm doing what I'm supposed to be doing. I reach out my hand to her depleted disposition.

And I'm close, I'm so close, but then – _WHOOSH!_ A gust of wind tosses me backwards, away, and all at once the horrible, ugly tornado appears, blocking my path to Sam.

"_NO!_" I cry out, pushing against the wind, trying, trying so, _so_ ridiculously hard to get through, to get to Sam on the other side. I give it all I have, but every foot of ground I cover, the tornado pushes me two feet back. "_SAM!_"

Adelaide stands a foot from the tornado, the bullhorn in her hands.

"Freddie Benson!" she cries, her girly voice barely fitting the part, "You have failed!"

"NO!"

"You are sentenced to live these hours forever!"

"NO, NO, NO!" I scream, above the harsh winds, "Please! I learned my lesson! I-I just want Sam! Please!"

"Did you _see_ that list of faults?" Adelaide exclaims, relentless, "And those were only within a few hours! Just imagine all the frustration and mayhem you two would unleash upon each other in days, or months, or years!" I crumble onto my hands and knees, crestfallen. "What makes you think this is how it's supposed to be?"

Moments and memories from all the years I've known Sam rush through my mind. I think of bets and threats and spray bottles. I think of alliances and sacrifices and apologies. I think of meat golf, of what-why's, of first kisses, of double-fist face-dancing. I think of I hate you's. Of fire escapes, of courtyards, of holding the camera in the iCarly studio, bouncing from place to place as Sam's charisma explodes off the walls.

I pull myself to my feet. The answer is clear.

"Because I _love_ her!" I shout, meaning it now more than ever, "_I'm in love with Sam Puckett, and she's in love with me!_ And we'll clash, we'll make mistakes, we'll probably nearly kill each other, but so what? All those faults I made, the faults both of us will make, are what makes us _us_!" The wind picks up speed, forcing me to holler louder, to resist harder. "I don't care if you or anyone thinks I'm wrong, and it doesn't matter how many times I do it over, nothing will change because I wouldn't have it any other way!"

In a flash of light, the tornado dissipates. The wind dies down to a subtle whistle through the sparkly evening sky.

Adelaide drops the bullhorn and approaches me, a knowing smile on her face.

"I knew you'd get there eventually," she says, lightly punching my shoulder in a congratulatory manner. She snaps her fingers, and before what has just happened can register in my brain, the real Carly stands before me, and I'm wide awake.

" – only teases you to hide her true feelings," Carly finishes, from what feels like hours upon hours ago, "Face the facts, Freddie. Sam loves you." She carefully studies my awestruck expression. "Now, what are you going to do about it?"

I grab Carly's wrist and check her watch.

_12:04 AM._

**A/N: Hello, people of FanFiction! Here's my question to you all:**

**Would you guys rather me leave the story here, open-ended, what with iLMM coming out and all, or would you rather me give one more chapter/an epilogue? Because I do have an epilogue in mind, but if you guys think it'd be cooler to finish it here, I'm good with that, too. Let me know!**

**In the meantime, thanks to everybody who has been reading, whether from the beginning or just recently. I didn't imagine upon my wildest dreams that this story would be so popular, and in such a short interval of time, too! You guys are my favorites.**

**I hope this chapter cleared up what Freddie did wrong back in trial 3... I left it not completely obvious on purpose because I wanted you guys to feel confused and unsure about it (much like Freddie himself!)**

**Also, WHO ELSE FREAKED OVER THE FOURTH iLMM PROMO? AH! STILL FREAKING OUT! Seddie is so beautiful.**

'**Til sometime!**

**-Colors**


	6. Epilogue

**Summary:** Freddie must relive the events of the lock-in over and over until he gets it right.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own iCarly. I do, however, own about a thousand bottles of nail polish! Just as cool, right? RIGHT? Meh.

iDo It Over

Epilogue

At first it's pretty difficult to track Sam down, and I have a funny feeling it's intentional on her part. However, as it stretches later into the night, and kids start falling asleep, it becomes refreshingly easier.

All I have to do is follow the trail of dozing, Sharpie-defaced students.

Of course she's in the library, among a section dedicated entirely to textbooks, the last place I would ever think to look for her. I peer from behind a shelf, catching sight of her sitting on the floor, resting her feet on an arbitrary pile of books, fiddling with something.

I take a breath to begin talking, but as per usual Sam has to beat me to it.

"Get off my case, Freddifer," she mutters, as I step into view. Now that I'm closer, I can tell what exactly's she's holding; the remote she uses for iCarly. Just, pushing the buttons aimlessly. I know she thinks I'm here to express confusion, to pry, to demand answers.

I'm not, though. I've got all the clarity, information and answers I need.

"Nice to see you, too, Sam," I reply, a hint of a smirk on my face. Feeling brave, I come closer, until I'm standing right before her, items of my own clutched in my hand.

"How'd you find me?" she asks, keeping her focus on the remote.

"Oh, just a little game I like to call Follow The Vandalism," I say, trying to lighten the mood, as I toss one of her discarded Sharpie markers at her feet. "Not exactly the definition of discreet, Puckett." She says nothing, but for some reason, begins pressing the remote buttons even harder. I raise an eyebrow. "What're doing with that, anyway?"

"Looking for the rewind button," she answers, both determined and defeated, "I just wanna do this whole night over."

"Trust me," I reason, visibly shuddering, "No, you don't."

Slowly, Sam lifts her head to meet my gaze. "Do _you_?" It catches me off guard just how nervous she looks, how unsure she seems. If yesterday anyone had approached me and told me that I, Freddie Benson, had the power to instill that kind of vulnerability in _Sam Puckett_, who can fearlessly beat up muscular truck drivers, I would have laughed 'til I cried. But yesterday is yesterday.

The past is the past. Time to move forward.

"Walk with me for a sec?" The words aren't originally supposed to form a question, or sound so anxious, but halfway through the phrase I realize that Sam doesn't really appreciate orders. And neither would my arm from when she'd break it afterwards for giving one.

"_Nyeh_," she remarks obnoxiously, clearly unhappy with me. I flash her a sheepish smile, holding up the peace offering I brought in a plastic bag.

"I've got bacon…"

"Coming!" Sam enthusiastically springs to her feet, snatching the dangling bag of bacon from my hand. She wolfs it down in a record-breaking two and a half seconds.

I smirk. _That's my Sam_.

Feeling impulsive, I gently interlace my fingers with hers and lead her out of the cafeteria. She raises an eyebrow, glancing back and forth between our hands and me. I simply shrug.

"_Soooo_ wanna tell me where we're going?" she inquires.

"Just wait."

"Dude!"

We stop.

"Don't you trust me?" I ask, my own nervousness betraying on my face.

I wait for the sarcastic, rude comment, but it never comes. Her "'Course I do, Fredduchini," is abnormally sincere. I watch her turn pink. It's such a funny, strange sight that I can't stop myself from snickering. "Wipe that grin off your stupid face or I'll wipe it for you." My smile falls.

"Noted," I say hurriedly, fearing my life a bit. We wander through the basically empty hallways together until finally, we reach the cafeteria.

It's almost entirely deserted, the exception being Brad, who is fast asleep on one of the tables, cuddling a rather delicious-looking piece of fudge.

I sit on the stool and nod my head in the direction of my laptop so that Sam sees what I'm getting at. She's perplexed, but goes for it anyway.

It literally feels like there is a live animal clawing at my insides as I wait for Sam to test my mood. Because I know that this is _it_. Sam's finally going to know what it took me, like, nine billion I hate you's to figure out.

The beep signifying the ready results sounds louder than usual in the early morning silence. I watch as Sam's eyes grow even wider than they had in my dream. She looks up at me just in time to see me smile. Her shocked face melts into a smirk. I am honestly on the edge of my seat, mentally begging for her to say something. She does.

"You're in love with Brad, too?"

"Very funny," I say dryly. She grins.

And I know this sounds insanely cheesy, but… I can see it.

The future. Sam and I, side by side, arguing over insignificant details, taking on the world.

* * *

><p>Adelaide leans back in her chair, remote in hand, watching the aftermath of her meddling on a flat screen TV from the comfort of her roomy office at the Seattle chapter of the SCC. She beams contentedly at Sam's shocked face and Freddie's blissful one. Then, she rewinds the clip and observes the epic series of moments from the beginning.<p>

"Adelaide, welcome back!" one of Adelaide's co-workers greets affably, stopping outside her office door, "How was the iCarly mission?" Adelaide pauses the video.

"Oh, you know, the usual zaniness affiliated with that bunch," She replies with a shrug.

"Great," the co-worker says, entering the office, "Anyway, the boss wants a copy of your notes."

"Sure, they're right - " Adelaide glances around. All at once, she recalls her actions and bites her lip nervously. "Um… I… think my dog ate them. Sorry."

"Adelaide…" her fellow employee eyes her knowingly, "Where's your clipboard?"

"Nowhere," she chirps innocently, staring at her nails.

"Don't tell me you left your chipboard behind _just_ to knock some sense into the Benson kid."

"_Me?_ Do something sneaky like _that_?" Adelaide gasps, starting up the video again. Those two just make her so happy. She smiles to herself. "Never."

**A/N: Most of you asked for an epilogue, so there you have it, the closing of iDo It Over. I know many of you were probably expecting some sort of super dramatic, amazing kiss scene type thing, but honestly this story had so much of that that I felt Sam and Freddie needed a genuine, honest, simply…happy moment. You know, where they knew everything was going to work out. :)**

**Thank you for reading. DUDES, I GOT OVER FIFTY REVIEWS FOR THE LAST CHAPTER. Holy chiz, guys, I love you! I hope you guys aren't angry with me for not replying to your reviews. I figure you wanted to epilogue up ASAP. Just know that each and every review means so, SO much to me.**

**Now, who's psyched for iLMM? I know I am!**

**-Colors**


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